


Nice Running Into You

by immaplane



Series: The Adventures of Mike (don't call me that) and Vince (nice to meet you) [2]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Because Mycroft hits him with a car, Gen or Pre-Slash, Hurt Vincent, Internal Monologue, M/M, Mycroft-centric, hurt original character
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-11
Updated: 2017-06-11
Packaged: 2018-11-12 21:40:08
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,328
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11170614
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/immaplane/pseuds/immaplane
Summary: Mycroft meets Vincent again after some twenty years.By hitting him with a car.On accident, of course.





	Nice Running Into You

**Author's Note:**

> Hi! So quick warning, English is not my first language, and I have a chronic distaste for reading over my work (yes I realise this is problematic) so if you spot any mistakes, please let me know. I'm all for constructive criticism. Thanks!

Mycroft was quietly minding his own business, savouring his last minutes of peace before he’d have to get out of the car and deal with more idiot, bumbling politicians.

Alas, his small respite was brutally ended when something hit the car. Or rather, the car hit something.

There came a loud groaning from outside the car.

Someone apparently.

His driver was already out, checking the damage.

Oh no. That’s a frown. Frowns are bad. Maybe he should get out too.

‘Sir, can you hear me? Look at me please. Can you tell me your name?’

There was no answer except more groans.

This was _very_ bad.

‘I’m sorry sir. He came out of nowhere.’

This is a stain on your previously unblemished record.

‘He has to go to the hospital.’

This was not his day.

There was a sudden sign of intelligence coming from the groaning mess on the ground.

‘No, no, I’m fine. I don’t need to go to the hospital.’

That voice.

‘I’m totally fine.’

Apparently being totally fine now involved trying to stand up and then collapsing, repeatedly.

The man’s attempts to stand had for the first time revealed his face to Mycroft.

The cursed name slipped out before he could control it.

‘Vincent.’

He looked almost exactly the same as he did 20 years ago. A few more wrinkles and some grey hairs starting to spring up.

The now identified man whipped his head up.

And immediately realised that was a bad idea and winced.

‘Yeah?’

Don’t recognize me, don’t recognize me, please.

A wide grin suddenly stole over Vincent’s face.

Oh, shit.

‘Fred!’

His driver shot him a confused look.

‘Sir? I think he has a concussion.’

No, unfortunately he’s always like this.

‘It’s been awhile hasn’t it?’

Vincent was visibly pleased at seeing Mycroft again. Even under these circumstances.

Not long enough, obviously.

‘Fancy running into you like this. Heh, get it?’

He’s still as odious as I remember.

‘Sir, I really think we should bring him to the hospital.’

Yes, fantastic idea, then we can get rid of him.

The idea of a hospital did _not_ appeal to Vincent, who was still on the ground. And after further inspection, turned out to be bleeding quite heavily.

‘Oh no really, I’m fine, it’s just a scratch.’

‘You have a very serious looking headwound, sir.’

‘Yes, Vincent, you should go see a doctor, call it my good deed for the week.’

Ah sweet revenge.

A look of grim resignation settled over Vincent’s face. This was obviously payback and he was not getting out of it.

‘Fine.’

Hah.

‘But you have to take me.’

What.

‘There’s no need to call an ambulance. And you were the one to hit me so…’

Damn.

‘Sir, that would make it necessary to postpone your meeting.’

It seemed his driver was well aware of his revulsion for stupid politicians. And spending more time with this demon from hell would be less loathsome, albeit only slightly.

‘Oh that _would_ be a pity.’

There was in no way a smile on his face.

‘Very well, Vincent, we shall take you to the hospital.’

The driver got the wounded man in the backseat and started to drive off.

‘Great! So, who’s at the meeting that you so desperately want to avoid?’

Maybe he could gag him. Wouldn’t talking only worsen his condition?

‘Merely incompetent fools who refuse to follow my perfectly logical suggestions.’

Mycroft had a look of eternal suffering on his face. He rather looked like Vincent imagined Sisyphus to look after his rock had once again rolled down the hill.

‘You had all the answers but no human touch.’

Don’t sing.

‘I never did buy you that coffee.’

‘Chocolate milk you mean.’

‘No, no, I finally started drinking coffee. I’m a big boy now.’

The lecherous grin on his face showed very clearly what he was getting at.

Well, then.

‘You are obviously more seriously injured then we thought. You are showing signs of delusion.’

‘Very funny.’

Why thank you.

‘But I’m serious. Let me buy you a coffee.’

A look of doubt flashed over the younger man’s face.

‘Unless you’re not interested? Then I apologize.’

Well this was interesting. It seemed Vincent was in fact serious. Fascinating.

Mycroft remained in a pensive silence. And Vincent, sensing he shouldn’t push him, stayed silent as well.

Normally he’d shoot him down, as he had done in the past with previous toadies who thought they could use him. But well, here was an admittingly attractive man who was interested in him, seemingly without any ulterior motives.

Sure, Vincent had a very strange sense of humour, and was _very_ annoying sometimes, make that all the time. No this was stupid. He couldn’t stand the man. He’s a demon from hell, remember?

Although.

Maybe.

It would be nice to have some human company from someone who didn’t work for him and wasn’t his brother or doctor Watson.

The silence had lasted so long Vincent was starting to lose hope.

Mycroft took a deep breath.

Vincent started bracing himself for a scathing rejection.

‘Very well.’

The other man seemed stunned.

‘Wait seriously?’

‘Do not make me regret it.’

Vincent quickly got himself together.

‘No, no, you won’t. This is great. Um, when are you free? We could go after I’ve been in the hospital, maybe? It probably won’t take that long. And I don’t want you to change your mind.’

It seemed excited Vincent equalled babbling Vincent, interesting.

‘Very well. I will wait until you get treated. That means I will have to further postpone my meeting, how unfortunate.’

After a quiet chuckle from Vincent they spent the ride in a comfortable silence.

‘So will you tell me your real name now?’

A comfortable silence that was almost immediately broken by Vincent, who proved himself once again incapable of staying silent.

Mycroft had been wondering when he would be asked that question. And he dreaded the reaction his answer would surely bring.

‘Mycroft Holmes.’

‘Mycroft. I like it. It suits you.’

That was not the reaction he’d expected.

‘How so?’

‘Well, an extraordinary man like yourself could hardly go through life with a boring name, could he? Imagine your name being John, or David, or something equally dull. It just wouldn’t seem right. So, it’s good that you have a special name.’

Mycroft was strangely flattered.

 

 

Apparently, Vincent had a concussion, so the hospital wanted to keep him there for the night.

He was looking at Mycroft with puppy dog eyes, a look that a forty-something year old shouldn’t be able to pull off.

‘Promise me you won’t change your mind. Here’s my number. You can call me tomorrow? Or text if you want.’

He obviously wanted to ask for Mycroft’s number, but wasn’t sure he’d get a favourable reaction.

Luckily the unofficial leader of Britain was feeling quite daring and free that day.

‘Here is my number. I cannot always answer however, I have quite a lot of private meetings.’

Vincent really did have a face perfectly suited for smiling.

‘That’s fine. Then I’ll just stalk you via texts until you can answer.’

Smiling that often took to the evil witch side of the spectrum.

‘Does this mean you do have to go to your meeting now?’

Oh, bugger.

‘Oh no, I couldn’t possible expect them to come after cancelling already. Really, it would be better for everyone to just keep it postponed.’

There was no way he was going to that meeting.

‘Then maybe you could stay awhile longer? If you’re not too busy.’

He did have a bunch of paperwork to do.

‘I suppose I can avail myself to you if you wish.’

It could wait.

‘I do wish.’

Lovely.

‘So, Mycroft, are you still a super-secret spy?’

The rest of the afternoon was spent by deftly dodging any and all questions about his legwork days.

And if occasionally Vincent’s laughter was accompanied by a silent chuckle, well, who would know?


End file.
